The Sapphic Tragedy of Rapunxel
by Little Pebble
Summary: A tragic epic poem in the style of Sappho -- a lesbian Rapunzel.


The Sapphic Tragedy of Rapunxel

A/N: "Asleep against the breasts of a tender friend" -- a fragment that was found of Sappho's poetry

If Sappho had written the fairy tales, they probably would have looked something like this: epic poetry in four-line stanzas (which Sappho invented), lesbian romance, and tragic endings. (Yes, I know I spelled 'Rapunzel' with an 'x.' It's supposed to represent the Greek letter 'xi,' which sounds like a 'z' but is written in Latin letters as an 'x.')

If you have a problem with either slash or artistic writing for whatever reason, then don't read. Reviews are welcome; flames are discouraged.

****

The Sapphic Tragedy of Rapunxel

A poor man lived on the small isle of Lesbos;

A fisherman, he lived on the bounty of the sea.

His wife, though poor, was beautiful –

Thought by her husband the fairest in the world.

Long had they hoped that the gods would grant

Their dearest wish: to have a child,

To care for and to love as dearly

As they loved each other.

A priestess and a magic-worker

Lived nearby, also by the storm-gray sea.

A poetess and sorceress who held the ears of the gods;

She spoke to them on the poor couple's behalf.

This priestess, flame-haired Psappha,

Had a forbidden love for one of the married two –

The fisherman's beautiful wife, Atthis,

This magic-woman lusted for and loved.

And Hera, though jealous, could be generous as well:

The goddess of childbirth, she granted the wish

Of the fisher couple, and Atthis was with child

By the kindness of Psappha and the mercy of Hera.

Atthis, while heavy with the woman's womb-fruit,

Did crave the fruit of Athena's olive tree,

This fruit that grew in the garden of Psappha,

The beautiful priestess of the gods.

The lovestruck enchantress could not deny

The object of her passions the longed-for fruit,

And gave to Atthis baskets of olives

To satisfy her hunger and craving.

But Hera was angered by Atthis's desire

For the olive that was Athena's fruit,

For the gratitude of the fisherman's wife 

Should be to the goddess of childbirth, who granted her wish.

It was Hera's will that the child should be born

A daughter, with hair sunshine-gold like her mother's –

But that Atthis should die giving birth to the child,

For Hera's jealousy was strong and her justice harsh.

The fisherman, driven mad with grief,

Threw himself to the ocean's depths

To end his misery-laden, impoverished life

Made unbearable by Atthis's death.

But the care of his daughter he first gave

Unto Psappha, the priestess and witch,

Who would have followed the man into the sea

Had she not needed to live for his daugher's sake.

Unable to be with Atthis, her love,

The fiery-haired sorceress cared for instead

The lovely, kind, laughing, golden-haired daughter,

Whom she gave the name Rapunxel, for olive.

Over time, the baby grew into a child,

And a young woman she became from there,

Always sweet and beautiful, sunny and gay,

While through her magic, Psappha never aged.

When at twelve years of age, Rapunxel

Bled her first blood, becoming a woman,

Psappha found that she loved her beautiful ward

For she was so similar to Atthis, her mother.

While Psappha longed to hold Rapunxel as more than a guardian,

She knew that the young girl would never return

The desire that swallowed the other woman,

And so her passion she kept a secret.

Now, Psappha kept her ward in a sky-tall tower

To protect Rapunxel because of her love,

And she entered the tower by climbing up

The young girl's very long, sunshine-gold hair.

A princess lived in far-away Athens,

Artemis her name, for the goddess of the hunt –

For the princess loved riding and hunting as men do,

And wanted to marry none of her wealthy suitors.

She heard of a lovely girl in a high tower,

Near as tall as Mount Olympus and ringed by thorns,

On the tiny, rocky-shored isle of Lesbos

In Aeolis, in the sea surrounding Greece.

Princess Artemis's curiosity was aroused by this story

Of the girl whose hair reached the base of her tower,

And she sailed from Athens to the sea-bordered isle

To discover the stuff of legends and tales.

The tall structure stood out upon the rocky shore,

A lonely watch over a storm-tossed sea.

The princess marveled that the tale was true –

For she heard bird-sweet singing from within the tower.

Then the red-haired witch came to the tower,

Cutting a path through the thorny bushes

To stand at the base and call to the top:

"Rapunxel, Rapunxel! Let down your hair!"

Cascades of gold flowed from the heights,

Like a braid of Helios's shining rays;

The sorceress scaled the stone tower's side,

The hair of Rapunxel her climbing rope.

Psappha often visited Rapunxel in the tower,

To comb her long hair and spin for her long tales,

To revel in the sight of the daughter's innocent beauty,

To hunger for the lover's passion Rapunxel would never give.

Artemis the princess was now determined

To climb the daunting tower by the golden ladder,

To meet the lovely girl who sang like the nightingale,

To look into her shining eyes, perhaps to win her heart.

So when at last the priestess descended,

Sighing to herself, as ever, with loneliness,

And entered her little house by the storm-gray sea,

The princess gratefully seized the opportunity.

She called up to the tower,

As she had heard the priestess Psappha call:

"Rapunxel, Rapunxel! Let down your hair!"

And the fair face of a maiden peered from the heights.

"Who are you?" asked Rapunxel,

Curiosity burning in her,

For she had never seen any other human

Save for the woman who was not her mother.

"I am a friend if you will have me,

A companion if you will let me,"

Princess Artemis replied,

And Rapunxel let down her hair.

Up the long braid of sunshine

The dark-haired princess climbed,

The gods holding her grip firm

And the golden rope strong.

And Artemis saw that Rapunxel

Was a young girl of great beauty:

Hair yellow as the sun,

Eyes glittering blue-gray as the sea.

And Rapunxel, though too unsure,

Saw beauty in this stranger,

Wild, dark, and tempting,

Another world, out of reach.

And so they talked and laughed and became friends,

And taught each other songs – 

Artemis, the poetry of man,

And Rapunxel, the poetry of the ocean.

And Psappha, in her cottage nearby,

Saw all of this through her diving powers,

And knew, with a bittersweet sorrow of love

That Rapunxel could no longer be denied human friendship.

She saw their laughter and their happiness,

But did not hear their loving words,

Somehow never saw the tender touches,

The kisses stolen before "good-byes."

Yea, unknown to Psappha was the passionate love;

And Rapunxel did not know it was forbidden,

That the fiercely sweet kisses were nearly sinful,

Or that her nakedness in Artemis's arms was sin.

But one day, the secret they kept was ended

When Psappha watched them and saw

That the daughter she had always lusted after

Was making love to this dark-haired woman.

The priestess wept hot, angry tears – 

If only she had known that Rapunxel's love

Was not for men, was not out of Psappha's reach;

If only she had wooed her beautiful ward then.

With wings that Eros lent her to pursue the one she loved,

Psappha ascended Rapunxel's tower,

And found her lovely daughter in the bare arms

Of the princess who stole Psappha's love away.

In rage, she struck Rapunxel;

With strength born of her love and fury,

She cast Artemis from the tower

Into the thorns below that ringed the base.

With a knife of iron and a heart of fire,

Psappha cut Rapunxel's long hair short,

And cast it into the fire; and the poetess cried,

"Never again shall anyone ascend this tower!"

But "How I long for thee" she could not speak,

For Rapunxel's love would never be hers –

It belonged to another; it was too late,

For the girl would never love her lover's murderer.

Psappha stormed out of the tower room,

Repressing her angry, painful tears,

Railing against Aphrodite, whose will was fickle,

Leaving Rapunxel to grieve alone.

The young girl wept to see her dear one's ladder

A curled, melted heap upon the ashes,

Knowing that Artemis would never come again,

That never again would they make love.

Rapunxel had never known grief, never wept tears,

And could not bear the agony that tore at her heart.

So she ended her pain with the knife that severed her hair,

Stopping that heart's beating by her own hand.

But Artemis, favored by the mercy of the goddess

For whom she was named and like whom she shunned men,

Was not killed by the fall, but blinded by the thorns,

And sat by the shore, silent, pained, and alone.

Psappha's oracular gift let her know all –

She knew that Rapunxel was dead and Artemis blind;

That all was her fault, the fault of her sinful lust,

And she sought to end the lust that still ripped at her soul.

On the wings now of Hermes' sandals,

Bearing Psappha already to Hades,

The flame-haired priestess ascended the tower

To find the iron blade that ended her love's life.

Weeping, she took it from Rapunxel's breast,

Caressing the cold, still, bloodied body;

Psappha put out her eyes for the one whom she had blinded,

Then buried it in her heart, falling beside her love.

And the dark-haired Artemis, blind by the sea,

Wasted away, hungry for sustenance and love;

And nothing remains of her, only her loneliness –

And shouts across the sea are lost in the waves and mist.


End file.
